


Dandelions and Birthday Blues

by BiscuitsForPotter



Series: Dandelions Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Draco Malfoy's Birthday, F/M, Friendship, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Hogwarts, Sad Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/pseuds/BiscuitsForPotter
Summary: When Draco Malfoy's sixth birthday doesn't go the way he had hoped, he finds comfort from an unexpected source.





	Dandelions and Birthday Blues

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece was written for Draco Malfoy's birthday. 
> 
> A thousand 'thank you's to frecklesandbroomsticks, both a fantastic beta and aesthetic magician.

Draco bounced up and down on his four-poster bed as his personal house elf, Tippy, tried to wrestle him into his dress robes. He knew he was supposed to behave and hold still while the elf dressed him, but he just couldn’t contain his excitement.

Today was his birthday!

His mother had hinted that they were throwing him a big birthday party, and Draco couldn’t wait. Every time he thought about what today might have in store for him, he couldn’t help the way his body bounced.

“Young master Draco is being a bad boy! He is needing to stand still, even if it is young master Draco’s birthday.”

Draco groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. “But Tippy, I just can’t stand still! Everyone is coming over later for my birthday party.” A wide grin spread over his face as the elf fiddled with his bowtie. “There’s gonna be cake and presents and colour-changing balloons!”

The elf chuckled. “Young master Draco deserves a lovely birthday. Who is coming to this party?”

Draco paused for a moment. He had tried so hard to make friends in nursery. Last week he shared his licorice wands with Ernie MacMillan. Only yesterday he had played outside with Terry Boot and Sally-Anne Perks. Surely, some of them would be there.

“My friends! I have loads of them,” he boasted, puffing out his chest a bit.

“Tippy is happy for young master Draco. Now I needs you to sit, young sir. Your hairs are higglety-pigglety at the moment.”

When Draco’s hair was sufficiently slicked back, he hopped across his suite toward the corridor. Mother and Father had told him to come downstairs at eleven o’clock sharp. He looked at the grandfather clock sitting beside his heavy bedroom door. Squinting, he could just make out the Roman numerals lining its face.

It was… ten something. Ten… fifty… five. Ten fifty-five! That meant it was almost eleven!

Perhaps he could go downstairs just five minutes early. Surely, his parents would not fault him for being down just a teensy bit before eleven o’clock. Using both hands on the handle, he pushed the solid wood door open with care and poked his head outside. Nothing. Everything in the dark, formal hallway seemed unmoved. Draco looked left and right before taking a step out. As he walked down the corridor, he relished the swishy feeling of his dress robes behind him. Only big boys wore dress robes, and today, he was definitely a big boy.

A whole  _ six years old _ .

When he got close to the staircase, Draco began to tiptoe so as to not alert his parents to his early arrival. He considered himself an expert on all the squeaky and creaky spots in the floor, so he took special care to avoid those places. Closer and closer to the edge he came, straining his ears for any sounds coming below. He listened for the chatter of his schoolmates or the tinkle of special party music coming from the wireless.

Yet when he concentrated, all he could here were the muffled voices of his parents.

Draco ached with anticipation. Surely, it had been five minutes already.

Sinking down onto his bottom, he began to scoot down the steps one at a time, his ears still fixed on the voices. They were coming from the parlor, it seemed. Was that were his party was? Perhaps it was a surprise party and all his friends were just being quiet.

Yes, that had to be it. Draco almost squeaked at the thought. He could almost picture Ernie, Terry, Sally-Anne, Blaise, and Pansy along with the rest of his class at nursery crouched on the floor of the parlor, shushing each other but ready to spring up at any moment and scream “Happy Birthday!” at the top of their lungs.

He bounced his knees up and down, barely able to contain himself. This was going to be the best birthday ever.

At that moment, the clock in the foyer began to ring. Draco counted the  _ dings _ .

Eight, nine, ten, eleven… Eleven! It was eleven o’clock.

Draco strode toward the double doors that led to the parlor, shoulders back and head held high. The doors were slightly ajar, and the stream of voices coming from inside grew clearer as he stepped close. He was about to make his grand appearance when he heard some odd words spoken in his mother’s voice that gave him pause.

“What are we going to do, Lucius? I’m sure Draco is expecting a party with all his friends.”

“You sent out invitations, did you not?” Draco heard his father’s voice ask.

“Of course I did! I made sure they were delivered to all his classmates. They were supposed to be here by now.”

He heard his father sigh. “What do you want to tell him?”

“I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how to tell him that no one showed up to his birthday party.”

Draco’s eyes went wide, and before he fully realized what he was doing, he pulled the parlor doors open with a great tug.

The first thing that he saw was his mother and father huddled together near the back of the room. They looked up as soon as he entered, shock on their faces.

“Oh, Draco! We didn’t realize you were here,” his mother cried, stepping toward him.

That was when he noticed the rest of the room.

Streamers and colour-changing balloons decorated the room, with real fairies floating between them. On a table near the window sat a mountain of presents immaculately wrapped in emerald and silver paper and ribbons.

And then there was the center of it all.

The parlor table had been extended to hold far more people than normal, and it was covered in all manner of party hats, games, sweets, and prizes. This was exactly the party he had pictured in his mind, right down to the chocolate cupcakes with green frosting.

Yes, it was the perfect party.

But where were his friends?

“Happy birthday, darling,” his mother cooed, plucking a striped party hat off the table and fixing it onto his head.

“Mother, are my friends coming?” he asked as he made his way over to the table to examine cupcakes. Surely what he had overheard wasn’t true.

Much to his confusion, his mother didn’t answer. Instead, she looked to his father. That was odd. His mother never confirmed answers. She always spoke her mind.

Father cleared his throat.

“It seems there’s been a miscommunication of sorts, Draco.”

Draco tilted his head, even more confused. “Miscommunication?”

“Yes. There must have been a mix-up with the invitations.”

Draco furrowed his brows. “What does that mean?”

His mother stepped in. “It means… Well, it means that no one is coming to the party today, love.”

With a shake of his head, he asked the only question that came to his mind. “But why?”

His mother and father looked at each other for a moment before they both tried to answer.

“Well, you see– ”

“The thing is– ”

At that exact moment, the sound of a tap at the window interrupted the stuttering of his parents. Draco turned to see a spotted owl sitting on the sill. Attached to its leg was a rolled up piece of parchment.

“A birthday message!” he shrieked, tearing across the room. Before his parents could stop him, he climbed onto the table just under the window and fidgeted with the latch until it swung open. The owl hopped inside and stuck out its leg.

Draco unfurled the parchment and began to sound out the words that were clearly written by one of his classmates.

DRACO

MY MUM SEZ ITS YUR BURTHDE AND YOU ARE HAVNG A PRTY.

SHE SEZ I SHUDNT TAK TO YOU BECUZ YUR FMILE IS BAD.

I DONT WANT TO COM TO YUR PRTY.

YOU ARE WERD AND BAD. NO WUN LIKS YOU.

I DONT WANT TO PLY TOGTR AT SCOOL ENEMOR.

TERRY

He mouthed the words slowly, pointing with his finger until he reached the very end. As he read, the mean words on the parchment began to sink in. No one liked him? Was he weird and bad?

Draco didn’t understand. He played nicely with all of his friends at nursery. The teacher even said he was getting much better at making friends! He just didn’t understand.

“Mother, am I weird and bad?”

After asking this question, Draco looked up to see her looking absolutely horrified.

“What did I do, Mother? Father?”

His father looked angrier than he had ever seen him.

“Let me see that note, Draco,” he whispered, holding out his hand.

Draco clutched the note to his chest, shame flooding him. He didn’t want anyone to see that he was weird and bad.

“Come now, Draco. I need to read that message.”

Father’s stare was hard enough that Draco reluctantly relented after a few seconds more. He held the parchment out and his father took it, his eyes moving back and forth. Mother leaned in to read as well.

“Oh, what a horrible thing to do!” Mother looked close to crying. “Why would that awful little boy send Draco something like this?”

“Perhaps the child’s mother did not know that he sent it,” Father suggested.

Draco shuffled his feet, fidgeting with his hands behind his back.

“Am I weird and bad?” he asked again. “That’s what Terry said.”

“Of course not, darling!” His mother knelt down beside him and patted his head.

“But then why didn’t anybody come?”

Draco felt his face grow hot. He wouldn’t cry. He was a big boy. Big boys didn’t cry.

Neither of his parents responded right away, but he knew the answer. He knew deep down why no one came. It was like Terry wrote. No one liked him. When he scrunched his eyes really tight and thought back to when he played with Terry and Sally-Anne, he couldn’t remember either of them smiling at him or even playing with him, really. The two of them had played a game together, and he had played beside them.

He was trying to make friends at nursery, but he was probably too weird and bad to make friends.

“I don’t have any friends, that’s why. Everybody hates me,” he whispered to himself, feeling the tears he was too old for well up in his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” his father interrupted. “They don’t hate you. They are simply jealous.”

Draco wrinkled his nose, confused again. Jealous? Why would they be jealous?

“That’s right, darling. You are a Malfoy, and Malfoys are special. We are one of the oldest families our community and everyone reveres our name.” Mother continued to pat his head.

“Reveres?”

“It means they respect us because the name Malfoy is so special. The other children at your nursery do not come from families that are nearly as special and therefore, find you intimidating.”

They were intimidated by him? He had only ever been nice to them. Well, except for that time he took Blaise’s toy niffler to play without asking. But still, was that enough for everyone to be intimidated by him? Was that enough to make them not want to come to his birthday?

He didn’t want to be intimidating, even if that meant he couldn’t be special.

“Then I don’t want to be special!” he cried and stamped his foot.

“But darling, you can’t help being special. You’re the son of a Black and a Malfoy, after all.”

Draco balled his fists. His face hurt from holding in his tears. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair that this was the reason no one at school wanted to be his friend. From inside of him, he felt hot anger bubble up until it came bursting out.

“Well then I don’t want to be a Black or a Malfoy!”

He didn’t want to see his parents’ faces. Instead, he ripped off his party hat, turned and ran.

He ran through the parlor doors.

He ran through the foyer.

He wrenched the front door open and burst into the sunlit morning, his legs carrying him past the white peacocks littering the front gardens.

He ran and ran and ran, tears streaming cold across his cheeks as he made his way to some place unknown. Maybe there, people wouldn’t think he was so special. Draco’s feet pounded on the grass and dirt roads through the countryside until he couldn’t breathe and his feet started to hurt.

Pausing, he took a moment to look at his surroundings as he gulped down big breaths. It was then that Draco realized he didn’t recognize anything he saw. Normally when he travelled, it was by Floo powder or Side-Along Apparition. Very rare was the occasion that his family actually wandered outside the Manor on foot.

As such, he had no idea where he was. The rolling hills of the countryside surrounded him, the landscape dotted with cottages here and there. He knew that these houses were likely filled with Muggles. Talking to Muggles was strictly forbidden according to his parents.

All of a sudden, Draco felt the first traces of fear creep up his spine.

He was lost, surrounded by Muggles, and no one liked him. This was the worst birthday he had ever had.

With his eyes trained on the ground, he walked into the shade of a nearby tree and sat down. It was there that he finally allowed himself to have a proper cry.

He supposed he  _ could _ still be a little boy for a few minutes.

After a few moments, though, he thought he heard an odd rustling sound from above. Draco looked up, and to his horror, he saw a girl sitting on one of the branches.

“Boy, why are you crying?”

Draco hastily wiped his tears away. He could feel the blush rise in his face.

“I’m not crying.”

The girl gave a little giggle and hopped down from her perch.

“Oh gosh. I’ve always wanted to say that line. You know, like in  _ Peter Pan? _ When Wendy finds Peter after he can’t attach his shadow with soap. And it’s so funny that you responded the exact same way as Peter.”

Draco didn’t understand a thing she was talking about. This girl sure had a mouth on her. His thoughts must have showed on his face, because her face turned pink and she looked a bit sheepish.

“Sorry. Was I talking too much? Everyone says I talk too much.”

Draco took the moment of silence following her words to really look her up and down. Judging by the way she was dressed, she was definitely a Muggle. Short pants and a brightly-colored T-shirt. Her hair was the wildest thing he had ever seen–the brown curls were everywhere, and even though they looked well-maintained, there was something definitely uncontrolled about them.

“So, why were you crying?” she asked again.

“That’s none of your business,” Draco snapped at the girl. She drew back.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t mean to ask too much.”

He studied her expression. She looked so sad.

Was this what he did to the other kids at nursery? Did he make them sad because he was weird and bad? Because he was a Malfoy? Draco instantly felt guilty.

“It’s okay,” he piped up. “I didn’t mean to make you feel sad. I just…  _ I’m _ sad today.”

The girl scrunched her nose. “Why are you so sad?”

 

Draco wondered for a moment whether he should really be talking to a Muggle girl. His father would be so upset if he knew. 

 

But right now, a good Malfoy was the last thing he wanted to be. 

“Today’s my birthday and no one came to the party.”

He expected her to gasp or frown at this revelation. Instead, she did something very odd.

She hugged him.

Draco didn’t quite know what to do with himself as she wrapped her arms around his neck. With her so close, he decided he liked the way her hair felt on his face. He also liked the way she smelled.

Like fresh flowers and sunshine.

When the girl pulled back, she patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay. No one came to my birthday party last year either.”

Draco poked his tongue into his cheek. “But why? You seem really nice, even if you do talk a lot.”

The girl sighed and sat down under the tree beside him.

“I don’t have any friends. Mummy says it’s probably because they think I’m too smart and because I read too much.”

Draco frowned. “That’s a stupid reason not to be someone’s friend.”

The girl offered him a small smile, and he felt his heart lift. For some reason, he felt compelled to make this girl feel better, even though he had no real idea why.

“Do you have any friends, then?” she asked, reaching forward and picking a dandelion from the ground. Draco watched as she picked multiple flowers and tied them together in a chain.

Did he have friends? He thought of the note from Terry.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t. My father says everyone is intimidated by me because my family is so special.”

The girl stopped tying flower stems together and looked right at him.

“That is also a very stupid reason not to be someone’s friend.”

She cracked a grin and so did he. While she got back to work on her flower chain, he drew one knee up to his chin. With every passing minute, he felt less and less worried that this girl was a Muggle. She seemed perfectly nice. If she had been at his nursery, he definitely would want to play with her. He wondered why Father had forbidden him to ever talk to Muggles.

“Do you want to be friends?” he blurted out.

Oh no. Had he said that out loud? Quickly, he clapped his hands over his mouth.

Instead of looking upset, she smiled at him. “Yeah, okay.”

Draco’s heart soared. He had a friend!

But still… He had to be sure…

“You don’t think I’m weird or bad, do you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and he was sure he was blushing.

Hermione looked up from her flower chain, her face very serious. Draco watched as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

“You are not weird or bad. Anyone who says so is just being mean. Other kids at school said I was weird, and my mummy says that I should just ignore them.”

“Well you’re definitely not weird. I like you,” said Draco.

“I like you, too. So that means you’re not weird. Or bad.”

The two new friends sat together under the tree, basking in the early summer breeze. Draco didn’t say anything as the girl finished her chain and tied it back together in a circle.

“There! It’s all finished.” She held the dandelion circle with care and turned toward him. “Hold still, okay?”

Draco didn’t move a muscle. He tracked her movements with his eyes as she shifted onto her knees and reached up with her arms to place the flowers on his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching up to touch the dandelions. She was quick to swat his hand away.

“Don’t touch! You’ll break them. You don’t want to break your birthday crown, do you?”

He blinked. “Birthday crown?”

“Of course! This is your birthday party, after all.”

The girl grinned at him before reaching over to a bag that was propped up against the trunk of the tree. After rooting around for a moment, she drew out a food package of some kind. It was bright blue, and Draco tried to remember if there were any sweets he knew that came in a blue package.

“Here you go!” she said cheerily, handing him a chocolate biscuit before drawing one out for herself. Draco stared at the biscuit in his hand. Were muggle biscuits the same as the biscuits he ate at home? Before he had any real time to consider this dilemma, the girl asked him another question. “How old are you?”

Draco puffed out his chest. “I’m six today!”

The girl beamed. “I’m six as well.”

He was about to take a bite of his biscuit when the girl stopped him.

“I have to sing to you first!”

Draco froze, biscuit halfway to his mouth as the girl opened her mouth and a melody came pouring out.

_ “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy sixth birthday my dear friend! Happy birthday to you!” _

He had never heard such a silly song in his life, but for some reason, with every passing second his smile grew wider and wider. As soon as she finished singing, both of them smashed the biscuits into their mouths.

It was the perhaps the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Even better than the chocolate cupcakes with green frosting.

When they both finished licking their fingers, the girl asked another question.

“Was your party supposed to be a costume party?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “No, why?”

“Well,” said the girl as she wiped her hands on her short pants, “you’re dressed all funny with a cape and a tie. I’m just curious.”

Draco opened his mouth to tell her all about his brand-new big boy dress robes, but he stopped. Muggles didn’t wear robes. They wore other, funny clothes. That was right. If there was one thing he knew about muggles, it was that he couldn’t let them find out that there was a world of magic. So, for the first time in his small life, Draco Malfoy swallowed his pride.

“Oh, yes. This is a costume of sorts I guess.”

She seemed to accept his answer.

“Did you get any birthday presents yet?”

Draco thought back to the mountain of gifts waiting for him back in the parlor and frowned. There would be loads of toys there, certainly. He always got tons of toys for his birthday and Christmas. But they were always toys he would have to play with by himself.

“I have some waiting for me, but I don’t want them. Not really.”

His new friend  looked thoughtful for a moment as she studied him. Draco felt oddly vulnerable as she looked him up and down. Then, she reached into her bag once more and pulled out a book. It wasn’t a beautiful, hardcover book like all the editions that lined the bookshelves at the manor, but a soft book. Its edges were bent and the pages were no longer held together neatly. With a wistful look in her eye, she placed the book in his hands. Draco squinted at the title, sounding it out.

“Ma-til-da.  _ Matilda. _ ”

“It’s one of my favorite books. My mummy and daddy bought it for me when I was very little. I’ve probably read it about ten times by now.”

Draco stared down at the drawing on the cover of a girl holding a book. It reminded him of his new friend.

“And you want to give it to me?” He held the book as if it were the most precious thing in the whole world. Even more important than the broom he got for his birthday last year.

The girl shrugged. “I basically have it memorized. Besides, I think it will make you feel better. It always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he said the only two words he could think of.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Draco flipped through the pages, but quickly found the book was rather difficult. Blushing, he held the book back to her.

“Will you–erm–will you read it to me?”

The girl looked like she could have cried from happiness. She took the book into her lap and turned to the first page, clearing her throat. Draco leaned back against the tree truck and adjusted the flower crown so it sat straight on his head.

“Matilda, by Roald Dahl. Chapter One. The Reader of Books. It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers…”

He could listen to her read forever.

The girl had just begun the second chapter when a voice called out across the hill where their tree sat.

“Lunch time, darling!”

Both of them jumped as the sound interrupted the description of Matilda’s awful father’s business. Draco was so captivated by this girl’s storytelling that he hadn’t noticed the time pass. Not really.

“Ooh. That’s my mum. I’ve got to go. Will you be alright?”

Draco nodded.

“Yeah. I think so.”

The girl looked at her shoes for a moment as she rocked back and forth on her toes. “Did the book make you feel better?”

He grinned. “Definitely.”

The girl returned his grin and held the book out. “Then you should absolutely keep it.” Draco accepted the copy of  _ Matilda _ , and as it passed from her hand to his, their fingers brushed for just a short moment.

It sent a shiver up his spine and a blush all down his face.

“Happy birthday,” the girl said one final time before grabbing her bag, turning on her heel and racing back toward her mother’s voice. “Coming, mum!” she yelled.

Draco was left standing under the shade of the tree alone,  _ Matilda _ clutched firmly in his hand. He blinked. Had that really just happened? Did he really make a friend? A real friend who didn’t think he was bad or weird?

This really was turning out to be the best birthday ever, even if it was unexpected.

His new book and flower crown safely tucked into his dress robes, Draco made his way back up the path toward Malfoy Manor. The wards accepted him, and he passed through the gates.

For the next hour, he endured a lecture from his father about both running away and having pride in the Malfoy name. He watched his mother write a howler to Terry’s mum.

Tippy cleaned away the birthday party from the parlor, leaving the room spotless as if it had never been planned in the first place.

Draco was sent to his room.

All of this would have upset him greatly if it hadn’t been for the book tucked inside his robes and the sweet taste of chocolate biscuits still lingering on his tongue. That night, Draco continued to read  _ Matilda _ by candlelight. He wasn’t as fast of a reader as the girl, but he managed to sound out the story word by word.

And the girl was right. It did make him feel better. It made him feel like he could actually be someone– _ do something _ .

Even if he was a Malfoy and even if people were going to treat him differently, he could write his own story.

On the night of his sixth birthday, Draco Malfoy fell asleep with a smile on his face and a crown of flowers on his head.

Later in the summer, Draco managed to get away from the Manor again. But when he searched the area where he had met the girl, he found she had gone. The cottage where her mother had called to her was empty.

* * *

 

Draco was having the worst seventeenth birthday a wizard could have. On any normal seventeenth birthday, there would be a special celebration for coming-of-age. He had always pictured himself doing so in a ballroom with a girl on his arm or at least at the Three Broomsticks with some friends.

But no. For his coming-of-age he got a letter from his father telling him to hurry up and finish the blasted task for the Dark Lord.

Not that birthdays had ever really worked in his favor. Not since he was a very small boy, as far as he could remember.

Today was just the worst. His birthday could sod off.

He really just wanted to kick something.

He had considered kicking Granger right after potions class. That might have cheered him up a bit to see her bushy head fall to the floor.

And he had almost done it. But she had been wearing a flower in her hair that morning. It was bright yellow–a dandelion–and she had tucked it behind her ear. And though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it, there was something jarring about that flower in Granger’s hair.

It had been enough to give him pause.

He had later decided to kick a wall instead.

After another failed round of attempting to fix the cabinet, Draco collapsed into bed, completely spent. He just wanted his birthday to be over. He wanted to say he was seventeen and be done with it.

Still… There was one last birthday tradition he had to fulfill.

Casting  _ Lumos _ and summoning the book from his trunk, he snagged his dog-eared copy of  _ Matilda _ as it floated toward him. He didn’t have many vivid memories of his childhood, but he remembered his sixth birthday clearly.

It was on that day he had met his first real friend.

Of course, he hadn’t seen her since. He didn’t even know her name–he had mentally kicked himself for years for forgetting to ask.

But it was no matter now. She had likely forgotten all about him.

Smiling at the memories, he opened up to the first page, which was marked with a single, dried dandelion.

He could still hear these exact words spoken in her voice.

“ _ Matilda _ , by Roald Dahl. Chapter One. The Reader of Books. It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers…”

Perhaps he could make today into a good birthday after all.   

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Draco!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> xoxo BiscuitsForPotter
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr under the same name!


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